


Once Upon a Time in the West

by Adam_Queen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Basically just RDR2 in GOT, F/M, Romance, Violence, Western
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 12:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20724446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adam_Queen/pseuds/Adam_Queen
Summary: Jon Snow is a member of the notorious band of outlaws known to the people as "The Raiders", a gang led by Mance Rayder.  An attempted job at Casterly Rock goes bad, leaving the gang fractured across the country.  In the aftermath Jon meets a dangerous woman, starting a bloody chain of events that leads to all out war between the biggest gangs in Westeros, the Night's Watch Detective Agency, as well as some key political figures. In the middle of it all is just one bastard, fighting desperately to keep himself and his friends alive.I finished Red Dead Redemption 2 not too long ago, and during my playthrough of the game I got the inspiration for this story.  This is more or less a mix of the two worlds.





	Once Upon a Time in the West

**Author's Note:**

> I mention the geography a few times so I decided to include the map I used as reference for anyone who wanted to get a better idea/visual of what I was talking about.

The Fish n’ Anchor was particularly lively that night. Throughout the saloon, patrons were chatting, singing, dancing, and drinking in equal measure. Beer and whiskey flowed freely, the piano in the corner had struck up a lively tune, and there had even yet to be threats of violence at the poker table. It was a wonderful night all around, with merriment to be had wherever one looked. Unless one were to look at the table in the corner nearest the door.

There you would find only a sullen young man with a forgotten plate of fried fish staring intensely at a piece of wood that he whittled away at single-mindedly. He was huddled as far back into the shadows as he could manage, but it was still easy enough to make out his long, handsome face and deep-set frown. He certainly didn’t seem as if he would join the men around him in singing “The Bear and the Maiden Fair”. His mood didn’t seem to improve even when his profoundly fat friend joined him at the table, plate of food in hand.

“How are Gilly and Little Sam settling in?” Jon asked his friend, setting his whittling aside, though his frown stayed firmly in place as he surveyed the rest of the saloon.

“Gilly’s happy to have a real bed again,” Sam shrugged halfheartedly. “I’m just happy to have some good food after all this time.” He declared before digging into his plate of fried fish.

“We stopped at that inn in Golden Tooth three days ago Sam,” Jon snorted out something that might have been a chuckle, “We’ve been on the road all of what, eight days?”

“That only makes two nights out of ten,” Sam defended himself through a mouthful of food. “You can’t expect me to be happy eating canned beans and salted beef the other eight.” Jon could only shake his head at his friend. Sometimes Jon thought that Sam might like food and books more than his own wife. “D’you think we could stay here an extra day to rest up and resupply?” Sam asked.

“No.” Jon’s answer was stern and swift. “We need to make it to the Crossroads as soon as possible to meet up with everyone else. Besides, I won’t suffer to look at that _fucking trout _all over the place a moment longer than I have to.” Sam nodded sympathetically at that, but Jon could tell that his friend was taken aback by the venom in his voice. “But, if we really must, we can stop in Stone Hedge. We’ll reach it around nightfall the day after tomorrow. Maybe the next morning at most. We can rest, resupply, and spend the night there.” He offered diplomatically.

“So, how long do you think until we reach The Crossroads?” Sam asked after a moment of silence.

“I don’t know.” Jon sighed. “At least eight or nine days, probably, if we’re stopping in Stone Hedge. We might be able to cut it to about a week if we ride hard.” He gave his friend a pointed look at that.

“Riding hard isn’t exactly easy with a wagon and a small child, Jon.” Sam slowly began to explain. _Not this horseshit again. _Jon thought to himself

“I know,” Jon cut his companion off shortly. “I just want to get there as soon as possible and see how the group’s doing.”

“We’ll probably be some of the first there still.” Sam reasoned. “I doubt many took the River Road like we did. Most of them must have gone down the coast on the Searoad or across the mountains on the Goldroad. We’re taking the most direct route, so I’m sure we’ll be the first to arrive.” There was a lot of forced optimism in Sam’s voice as he spoke. “You can’t worry so much about it, Jon. There’s nothing we can do but wait until we and everyone else gets there. Just have some faith, I’m sure everyone made it out of there.” The kind young man tried to reassure his friend, though Jon wasn’t so sure if it wasn’t more for Sam’s own benefit.

“I’d still like to get there as soon as possible.” Jon let out a beleaguered sigh. “But, if it takes ten days, then I suppose it can’t be helped.” He sighed once more, resigning himself to his fate. “We’ll figure out our next step when we find everyone else. When we find Mance. Until then we keep a low profile. Our faces might already be on wanted posters across Westeros.”

Sam looked unsure of himself for a moment. His fork stilled and he stared at the half-eaten trout on his plate before swallowing hard, and tentatively meeting Jon’s eyes.

“Jon,” The young man began hesitantly. “We may need to consider what to do if we don’t find the others at The Crossroads. If we don’t find _Mance_ there.”

“No Sam,” Jon’s voice was pure steel, hard and unwavering. “They’ll be there. They will be. They’re all more than capable of looking after themselves, Mance especially. They’ll be there. They _have _to be.” Sam looked back down at his plate at that, but he had yet to give up.

“We both know the job went bad Jon.” Sam’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You said it yourself, it sounded as if the whole fucking army came down on them at Casterly Rock. We don’t know who made it out, if anyone at all.” They were the words that neither had dared speak since leaving The Rock, both afraid that if they were said they may become reality. “I’m just saying that we should prepare ourselves for the possibility of being on our own once we reach The Crossroads.”

“We’ll deal with it when that becomes a reality and not a moment sooner. I can’t believe they’re all dead Sam, I just_ can’t._” Jon’s voice was firm, even though he knew his friend was right. 

The two lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, Sam dedicated himself to making quick work of his plate, while Jon focused his attentions on their surroundings. The young man was used to keeping a watchful eye on everything around him. It was a necessary survival skill he’d learned long ago. It had been much easier before his face had started appearing on wanted posters though. Back then he only had to watch for angry red hair and cold blue eyes. Now every lingering pair of eyes and hand resting on a holster presented a threat.

Jon didn’t find anything out of the ordinary until his eyes found another pair just like his own, guarded and vigilant. Had they been grey instead of purple he may have thought he’d caught his reflection in a mirror.

The woman with the purple eyes was sitting at the end of the bar on the opposite side of the room tucked into the corner of the room just the same as him. She was watching the room just the same as him too, but she seemed to be searching for something specific. _What might that be? _Jon thought.

He couldn’t help but admire the woman. Jon wouldn’t admit it to himself, but she might have been the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. He felt guilty at the thought, but he figured that the wild girl who had stolen his heart so many years ago probably wouldn’t begrudge him that. If anything, she’d probably laugh at him and his honor.

She had intricately braided silver blonde hair that shone even in the low light of the lanterns and elegant, refined features that Jon hadn’t seen outside of high society women. She was small and slight, but she carried herself with an air of confidence that spoke of anything but frailty. Jon got the feeling that she was not the type of woman to make an enemy of. Jon also noted that she wasn’t wearing a dress like all the other women in the room. Instead she wore black riding leathers over a plain red shirt. A decidedly un-feminine look that Jon liked. She looked much different, but she reminded Jon of a girl with crooked teeth and hair kissed by fire. A girl who wouldn’t be caught dead in a dress. A girl who also exuded confidence and strength.

Jon had decided that he liked this strange woman with the purple eyes and silver hair.

They watched each other for several long moments, both evaluating the other. Jon knew that while this woman was dangerous, she didn’t pose a threat to him. He thought maybe she felt the same when the barest hint of a grin pulled at the corner of her mouth. He couldn’t help but give a lopsided smile at that. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him, if maybe she saw in him what he saw in her. Jon was beginning to toy with the idea of going over and introducing himself when their little moment was broken by a chorus of screaming from outside.

It sounded almost like a war cry and it was accompanied by the sound of pounding hooves. It wasn’t something Jon had ever heard himself, but it was something he’d had described to him before. Mance had once told him that it was the sound of death. Jon’s blood ran cold when he realized that he was hearing the Dothraki screamers of The Khalasar, one of Westeros’s most notorious gangs. The sound grew as the horses made their way down the streets of Riverrun. 

Jon looked across the table to see that all the color had drained from his friend’s face. A look across the room told him that even the woman with the purple eyes was worried. That’s when Jon decided that he should be worried too. The young man could only close his eyes and send up a prayer to the Old Gods. _Please don’t let them come in here. Just give me one night without bloodshed, one night of peace._

Jon decided that the gods were either indifferent or cruel when the screams stopped out front of the Saloon. Realizing the same thing he had, the purple eyed woman had risen from her seat at the bar and was attempting to make her way to the stairs on the back wall. Her boot had just touched the first step when the doors of the saloon banged open and Jon heard the sound of death; tinkling bells.

They looked like everything Jon had been told. Tall, bronzed, and muscular. They wore painted horsehair leggings and vests, and they all had long, oiled braids that reached their lower backs. The most terrifying thing wasn’t the shotguns two of them carried, but the little bells that were braided into their hair. Jon had heard that each bell was for a kill, and these men had at least a dozen each. The idea of killers walking around accompanied by the sound of tinkling bells like a fat house cat had been funny when Jon had imagined it while sitting around a campfire, but when he heard the bells himself, he couldn’t help but hear the toll of a funeral bell.

“Daenerys Targaryen!” One of them yelled by way of greeting, staring directly at the back of the silver haired woman who was still standing at the foot of the stairs. “We’ve been looking for you for so long! Our dearly beloved Pono would like to have a word with you. So, if you’d please quietly come with us, we’ll take you to him and stop disturbing the people of this fine establishment.” His words could almost be considered kind, but his harsh, guttural voice and the saccharine tone he used betrayed a threat that he’d hardly bothered to veil. The reality of the situation became even more obvious as the trio advanced toward their target, stopping in the middle of the room, leaving their backs to the door and to Jon. Daenerys spun on the heel of her boot to face them, and while her face was composed, Jon could see the fire burning behind her purple eyes.

“Hello, Virsallo.” She greeted him pleasantly, thought it was obviously anything but. “It’s been too long. I’ve missed you and Pono so,” She said wistfully.

“Well, allow us to get reacquainted then.” Virsallo offered with a sleazy smile as he gestured toward the door.

“Unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to at the moment. Perhaps we could catch up some other time.” She countered diplomatically. At that, Virsallo dropped his hand to his holster. The movement wasn’t lost on anyone in the saloon, least of all Jon and Daenerys.

The room was quiet for several long moments. Nobody moved, nobody breathed. They were just waiting for iron to be drawn and bullets to start flying. Jon realized that this Daenerys was in a bad spot, and she didn’t seem likely to get help from anyone there. Jon locked eyes with Sam as he slowly began to inch from his seat, careful not to move too suddenly as to alert Virsallo and his lackeys. Sam’s eyes widened almost comically as he shook his head. Jon only shrugged and drew his revolver in response. _I’m sorry Sam. I have to._

Jon knew that Daenerys was watching him as he crept along the wall behind the backs of the Dothraki. Her eyes didn’t follow him as he moved. At least she was smart enough to know that would give him away. _Clever woman._

“Well, were you at least kind enough to bring a horse for me?” She asked, stalling for time.

“No, princess, I’m afraid we only brought horses for ourselves. I thought you might like to ride with me. Whether that’s in the saddle or across the back is up to you.” His voice was still the sweet venom it had been earlier, but his patience was beginning to wear thin, as was his companions. Virsallo had drawn his revolver from its holster and was holding it casually at his side, while the other two had cocked their shotguns, though they still held them down toward the floor.

“Then you’ve brought two too many,” Jon said, doing everything in his power to keep his voice even as he spoke.

The three of them wheeled around to face him, guns leveled at him, ready to fire. When they looked at him, just a wiry young man with long, pretty black curls, they laughed. They laughed right in his face, and Jon felt an indignant fire light in his stomach. It was then that Jon decided that these men wouldn’t leave the Fish n’ Anchor alive.

“And just who the fuck is this pretty little thing? One of your friends perhaps?” Virsallo asked, looking back over his shoulder at Daenerys.

“You disturbed my dinner.” Jon spoke, drawing their attention once more. “You threatened this woman, and now you’ve laughed at me. I’d like an apology, if you’d be so kind.” Jon’s voice was calm even as a storm of unease washed over him. He gripped his weapon tighter, determined to keep his hand steady if nothing else.

“I’m sure that iron in your hand makes you feel like a man,” Virsallo nodded down at Jon’s weapon as he spoke, “But don’t be fooled, you’re still a child. Now, I don’t like shooting children, so I’ll give _you_ ‘til the count of three to give _me _an apology and get out of my sight, and maybe I won’t kill you and everyone in this place.” All pretense of kindness was gone from his voice, and there was only the cold promise of a bullet. Jon was happy to deliver on such a promise.

“One.” Virsallo started, drawing back the hammer of his revolver. Jon closed his eyes, and drew in a long, steadying breath.

“_Two_.” The Dothraki raised his weapon towards the young man. Jon opened his eyes, and the same instant the air left his lungs, three bullets left his revolver.

“Three,” Jon counted as the bodies hit the floor. Both of Virsallo’s companions had been struck in the heart, while the leader himself had taken the bullet through his left eye.

_Clean. _Jon commended himself, though his celebration was short lived.

Jon holstered his weapon with a shaky hand. That seemed to signal to everyone else that the deed was done, and it was time to leave before they joined the men on the floor. The sober ones could almost be considered orderly, though there was some pushing and shoving as they tried to beat one another out the door. Their inebriated fellows were much more chaotic, stumbling about in a drunken panic. Still, sober or drunk, they all moved with a single-minded purpose; get away from these two murderous strangers. 

Jon barely noticed as the patrons hurriedly streamed past him. Everything he had just done struck him at once, leaving him lightheaded and shaky. He might have stood there all night, contemplating his actions if it weren’t for Daenerys making her way to him through the crowd of people.

“I wish I knew how to thank you for that,” She said as she came to stand before him, offering her hand to him. “Daenerys.” She formally introduced herself.

“Jon.” He reciprocated as they shook. “And there’s no need to thank me. Just trying to help.”

“Well Jon, it was wonderful to meet you, but I’m afraid I must be going. I suggest you make yourself scarce as well. There’s likely more of them, and I doubt they’ll take kindly to you killing their friends.” She spoke, calmly, briskly, and with purpose, as if she were used to commanding and giving orders. “Missandei! Grey! It’s time we were on our way!” She called up the stairs. Jon was about to yell for Gilly as well, but he already saw her moving along the balcony towards the stairs, baby in one arm, trunk of luggage in the other.

“On top of things as ever Gilly!” Jon called up to her.

“Your wife?” Daenerys asked as she looked up at the woman before peeking out the door.

“His.” Jon jerked his head toward Sam as his friend made his way over toward them.

“Samwell Tarly. Pleased to meet you, my lady.” Sam gave her hand a hearty shake in greeting before going to meet his wife at the stairs. Jon felt his heart warm at the sight of the two embracing. _I hope I can have that again one day._

“How many more should we be expecting?” Jon asked as he reloaded his revolver.

“At least a dozen I’d say. Probably more.” Daenerys murmured uneasily. “In any case, I’m sure that cocky prick on the floor was smart enough to send a rider to any other search parties they have in the city to tell them where to find me.” It was only then that Jon saw how scared the woman really was.

“You need some help defending yourself?” He asked. She regarded him for a long moment before speaking. Her face was calm and cool, but Jon saw the unease in the young woman from the way her fingers toyed with her holster.

“Thank you, but I’ll manage on my own.” She replied curtly. Jon was about to protest when Sam interrupted.

“Jon! We’ve got a problem!” The man called from the staircase where he and a young, dark skinned woman with big curly hair were carrying a bald, dark skinned man between them. The young man was shirtless, and Jon could see a bloody bandage on his stomach. _He’s been shot._

“Can you help him?” Jon asked his friend, already knowing where his mind was headed.

“I think so, but not until we get clear of here.” Sam was still scared, but he had that fire behind him that he sometimes got. He was determined to help this man, and nothing would stop him now.

“Hi, I’m Gilly,” The young wildling woman introduced herself as she came to the door. “My Sam there’s the smartest man in the world, an’ I reckon he can help your friend there.” Gilly was straight to the point, as her people tended to be.

“The smartest man in the world?” Daenerys looked toward Jon at that.

“He learned from the Maesters at The Citadel, and he’s patched me up enough times to know what he’s doing.” Jon explained quickly, choosing to omit the fact that Sam had never actually forged a link of any sort while at the Citadel.

“Alright then Jon, I suppose our acquaintance shall continue.” Daenerys agreed. He could see the relief in her eyes. She was probably aware that there wasn’t much she could do for her friend at this point and was happy to have a trained hand to treat him.

“Can he ride a horse?” Jon asked.

“We have a wagon if he can’t.” Gilly added.

“I can ride.” The injured man moaned as the final three came to a stop before the door.

“In the wagon.” The woman carrying him decided. “I’m Missandei, and this stubborn ass is Grey.”

“Jon, Gilly, and you’ve already met Sam.” Jon made the quick introductions.

“Alright, now that we’re all acquainted, shall we go?” Daenerys asked impatiently as she looked out the door once more.

“The quicker we’re out of Riverrun the better.” Jon agreed. And with that, they were out the door, leaving a saloon that had been bustling with life and merriment deserted save for the three bodies that now decorated the floor.

“Gilly, help get Missandei and Grey situated in the wagon. Sam, get up front and start driving as soon as you can.” Jon directed as he grabbed his weapons from his horse saddle. He slung a repeating rifle over his shoulder and grabbed his shotgun, checking that it was loaded.

“Which one’s yours?” Jon asked Daenerys as he mounted up, jerking his head towards the half dozen horses that were tethered to the hitching post outside the saloon.

“The silver.” Dany replied as she strode over to the magnificent beast. Jon noted, somewhat amused, that her horse matched her hair. “I’ve had her for years now. It’s how Virsallo would’ve known to find me in there.” She explained as she tethered the reins of two other horses together. Jon noted that they were Dothraki horses, some of the finest to be had. The breed was famously strong and fast, better than anything to be found in Westeros with the possible exception of the Dornish sand steeds.

It was then Jon noticed the horse tethered next to his own. She was another Dothraki, a rich brown mare, big and beautiful, and certainly much lighter footed than the stocky draft horse Jon had hastily ridden out of their camp near The Rock. _Be a shame to waste such a beautiful animal _He decided as he unstrapped his saddle and claimed his new steed.

Taking his new ride by the reigns, Jon led her over toward where Daenerys was working on the horses.

“If you don’t want to be found so easily, it’d be best to sell her as soon as you’re able.” Jon suggested. “A fine horse like that would get you quite a sum. Enough to buy another horse and then some.” Dany immediately stiffened at that, her hands stilling as if turned to stone. When she looked back up at him her eyes were cold and angry. _Oh shit._

“I will do no such thing.” She hissed at him harshly. “She was a gift from my husband, and I will _not _abandon her.” Jon wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He was simply taken aback at the fire that had come to her so suddenly.

“Missandei!” Dany called for her friend, forgetting Jon. “Can you take the horses, or does Grey need you in there?”

“He’s a big boy, he’ll be fine on his own.” Missandei answered as she knelt by the injured man’s side. She gave him a kiss and a pat on the cheek before leaving the cart to come help Dany with the horses.

“Dany, you should ride in the back of the wagon with Grey. I can take your horse if you like.” Jon suggested hesitantly. After he stuck his foot in his mouth with the horse, he knew he needed to tread carefully.

“I’m not sure what kind of women you’re used to Jon, but I assure you I can handle myself on a horse.” She didn’t even look at him as she reprimanded him. Jon bristled at her flippant dismissal.

“Take your head out of your ass for a second and think.” Came Jon’s curt reply. Both Dany and Missandei stopped what they were doing to look at him. Missandei’s eyes widened in surprise while Dany’s narrowed in a challenge. “It’s you and that horse they’ll be looking for. I’m not worried about you being able to handle yourself, I’m worried about you giving us away. If you sit in the wagon and stay hidden, then we just might make it out without anyone shooting at us.” Jon let out a huff as he finished. He towered over the petite woman, but the way she held his stare they may as well have been eye to eye. Neither so much as blinked for several long seconds, each waiting for the other the back down.

“Fine.” Dany spat, admitting defeat. “But if anything happens to that horse, you’ll wish the Dothraki had gotten you first.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jon said with a victorious smirk.

They made quick work of securing the two extra horses to Missandei’s, and within minutes they were ready.

“Ready Gilly?” Jon called ahead once he had mounted the silver and Missandei had taken the reigns of their train of newly commandeered horses. He pulled out a black wide brimmed hat, pulling it low to cover his face a bit.

“Ready!” Gilly shouted back from the front seat of the wagon, reigns in hand. Sam sat next to her, his son in his arms.

“Let’s ride then!” Jon commanded with a snap of the reigns. Soon they were racing through the streets of Riverrun. The wagon led the way, setting the pace as fast as the cumbersome carriage could manage. Next was Missandei with one horse tethered to either side. Bringing up the rear was Jon on Dany’s silver, his hand resting on the stock of the shotgun that was secured in his saddle, ready to draw at a moment’s notice.

They went along the quieter side streets for as long as they could. It was a precarious venture, hurting headlong down the narrow streets as they were. More than once people on foot were forced to dive out of the way as they came careening around the corner. There was plenty of cursing from the pedestrians, but Jon just shrugged it off. People had been angrier at him for worse, and they likely would be again some day soon. He preferred to dodge insults than bullets.

Eventually they were forced to turn onto the city’s main street. They needed to get out of Riverrun and back on the River Road, and there was only one bridge that would allow them to do so. They wouldn’t be exposed in the open street for more than a mile, but it was still a dangerous proposition. Even so, there was no other choice.

“Slow it down Gilly!” Daenerys called up to her driver as they neared the busy street. “We don’t want any unnecessary attention!”

Just as Daenerys ordered, they joined the traffic on the city’s busy main street and kept pace with those around them. It was slow going with how crowded the street was, and their crawl towards the bridge was infuriating for Jon. He could see their goal and wanted nothing more than to bolt towards it. Still, he forced himself to be patient and keep an eye out for any more Dothraki. He kept one hand on the reigns, while the other rested at his side, twitching in anticipation of grabbing his rifle from where it was slung across his back.

They made their way down the street, slowly but surely. With each clop of hooves against the cobblestones, Jon became more hopeful that they might make it. The anticipation of freedom built in his body with each grueling inch until he felt taut as a bowstring.

When they were no more than five hundred feet from the bridge, Jon finally allowed himself to relax just a little. They had done it. They were home free. The press of imposing buildings gave way on either side as they neared the foot of the bridge, the street giving way to a four-way crossing. They paused to let a covered wagon pass before them, and Jon looked down the street to his right only for his blood to stop cold.

_Fuck me and fuck the gods who cursed me._

There they were, not twenty feet from where he was in the street. Right along the edge of the building around the corner from where they had come were half a dozen Dothraki screamers sitting casually on their horses, watching the street, searching the crowds for a woman with silver hair and a silver horse.

_For the love of the gods, please don’t see us. _Jon prayed for all he was worth. He whipped his head back away from them, watching out of the corner of his eye as he held his breath. _Of course, they’d watch the bridges. I should’ve realized they’d be waiting for us here. _Jon cursed himself and his stupidity. _Please, just let us pass. Please, I beg of you._

Jon was more convinced of his curse than ever when glimpsed one of the Dothraki bolt upright in his horse, gesturing towards him. _Fuck the gods and fuck these cunts._

Three of them broke from the group and rode toward him, while the other three stayed on the corner. All of them had their hands on their guns, but they had yet to draw any iron. Everything in Jon’s body screamed at him to draw his shotgun and drown the men in buckshot before taking off in a gallop across the bridge. He forced himself to ignore his baser instincts though. The men didn’t intend to harm him, at least not yet. The Dothraki weren’t the sort to hesitate about spilling blood. Jon forced himself to stay still, not looking at the men even as he felt them approach him from behind. He just stared intently at the wagon before him, willing it to move so that he could try to escape the Dothraki and whatever they were approaching him for.

“Excuse me sir,” One of them said as he came up beside Jon, just as Gilly put the wagon in motion. _So close. _Daenerys watched him intently, a blanket pulled over her head to cover her hair, clutching a rifle in her hands. Jon knew this would be his only chance for them to help him. If he didn’t take it, he’d be on his own. The young woman raised the rifle to her shoulder, looking down the scope, waiting for any indication from Jon to fire. He only gave the smallest shake of his head he could manage. She lowered the rifle and gave him a wave. He saw her mouth move before he lost sight of them behind the traffic. “Good luck,” She had wished him. _I’ll need it._

“How can I help you gentlemen?” Jon said casually, fighting to keep his voice steady. The man on the horse next to him was short and lean, not the typical Dothraki. He looked less intimidating than his brothers, but the two dozen bells Jon counted jingling in his oily braid said otherwise. He was aware of the other two seating themselves on his other side as well as directly behind him.

“I’d like to know how you came to acquire that horse of yours.” The man was pleasant, with a friendly smile and a big oiled moustache. He was also surprisingly well spoken for a Dothraki. His smile was convincing, except for the way it failed to reach his eyes. He was a good liar, but his eyes gave him away. Jon knew the cold, calculating eyes of a killer very well.

“I bought her from a stable here in the city just this afternoon.” The lie came easy. They always did. “The big one as you come in through the gates on the other side of town. Riverside’s the name, I think. Why do you ask?” _I’m so much better than you. Too bad you’ll never know._

“It was stolen from our friend.” The answer was steady, but too quick, too practiced. Jon would’ve known it to be a lie even without knowing where the horse truly came from. “It’s a beautiful thing, that horse. I’m sure it cost you a pretty penny. If you don’t mind my asking, how’d you come by the money for it?”

“Bounty huntin’ mostly.” Trapper was what Jon wanted to say, but he didn’t want to tip his hand. Besides, looking as Jon did, well-traveled and weapons aplenty, it was the only answer that would be plausible.

“Is that a lucrative profession?” The scholarly Dothraki probed further.

“If you got loose morals and quick hands that you don’t mind gettin’ dirty it treats you pretty well.” Jon answered with an indifferent shrug. The Dothraki nodded at that, stroking a hand across his oily moustache as he considered Jon’s words.

“Well, I'm glad to hear that you're doing well for yourself sir. But, if you're interested in further enriching yourself, we'll pay you handsomely for any information regarding this thief. And if you capture her, we'll give you enough to hang up that gunbelt of yours for good. Here sir, a poster for you, so that you know who to apprehend if you ever come across her." As he spoke, the man produced a wanted poster from his saddlebag and handed it to Jon. Sure enough, emblazoned across the front of it was the name **DAENERYS TARGARYEN **and just below that: **WANTED: ALIVE. 5000 DRAGON REWARD. **Jon's eyes nearly popped out of his skull upon seeing the number attached to Dany's name. The Dothraki hadn't been exaggerating when he said it would be enough to retire on. 

With that kind of money, he could make Sam's dream of starting his own practice a reality. They had already planned it out over years of daydreaming together. Jon could see it as if it were right in front of him. They'd retire to White Harbor, chosen because Jon and Gilly both longed to return to The North and show Sam their homeland. Sam and Gilly would run the place, treating patients, and raising their family, while Jon took the occasional bounty to help pay his own way. When they eventually scraped the money together, Jon would open a gunsmith's next door. What a beautiful system it would be. Jon's customers would inevitably make more customers for Sam, or become such themselves. Jon joked that he'd engrave his initials on the bullets he sold, and if Sam pulled such a bullet out of a patient they'd receive a discount.

Then Jon remembered Mance's plan. The man was fond of saying how once they managed to put the money together, they'd sail off to the Free Cities or the Summer Isles and become merchants. The whole gang would live in a great mance with servants to attend to them. They'd no longer have to wash their money of blood after prying it from stiff hands, it would roll in on them in waves as free as the ocean. Another wonderful idea, though even Jon could see the fantasy in it. When Mance was feeling more realistic, he talked of starting a ranch for them in the reach somewhere. "Rayder Ranch has a nice ring to it, huh?" the man was fond of saying.

Jon saw all this and a thousand more possibilities flash before his mind, but there was one that was more enticing than anything else. Jon imagined walking up to the governors mansion in Winterfell in a crisp black tailcoat and tall hat, arm in arm with a highborn girl. He'd knock on the door and ask to speak with his father. He wasn't sure what he'd do after that, but the after didn't matter. All that mattered was seeing big blue eyes wide in shock, and a face to match the fiery red hair. That image alone almost made Jon's mouth move. "Oh you're looking for her? Well, right this way sir, I know just where you can find her. Do her friends have a price too?"

The words scrambled up his throat, trampled one another in a mad dash across his tongue, and banged at the backs of his teeth screaming all the while "Let us out! Let us out! Free us and we'll free you." It would've been the easiest thing in the world to open his mouth and let them spill forth. What did he care about this silver haired stranger and her friends? What was more important, their future or his and that of his family? His words would kill them as surely as a bullet through the brain, but Jon had spilled plenty of blood with his hands already. What difference would it be to spill it with his tongue this time?

"Never seen her," He said with an apologetic shrug. "I'll be sure to keep an eye out though." He added as he folded the poster and tucked it into his saddlebag. His words surprised even him. Once again the betrayal tried to fight it's way out between his lips, but he only bit the inside of his cheek, trying to make it seem as if he were chewing on it in thought. Eventually the taste of blood replaced that of treachery.

"Well she must have sold the horse to the people who sold it to you. Did they say anything about her? Where she might have gone or what she planned to do with the money?"

“Naw, they didn’t say anything like that.” The words came out in a thoughtful drawl. “Though I ‘spose you could always go ask them for yourself in the morning.” _If you can find a stable that doesn’t exist, that is._

The small Dothraki man studied him closely for a moment. Jon held his gaze, only breaking it with a slow, lazy blink.

“Well, I suppose we’ve taken enough of your time tonight. Thank you kindly for your help.”

“Best of luck tracking down that thief,” Jon said with a tip of his hat. “Wish I could’ve been more help.” As the men turned their horses around and Jon spurred his forward through the intersection, he almost asked if their friend might want his horse back. His better judgement won out in the end. _Best not to give myself away just to let him know that I beat him at his own game of lying. _Still, Jon smiled imagining the look of surprise on his face when he realized he’d been outwitted by simple bounty hunter.

Even as he went trotting onto the bridge, Jon could feel eyes boring into his back. He fought not to look back over his shoulder. He couldn’t show them that anything was amiss. _Barely made it out of that as it was. Don’t need to make them any more suspicious._

As he came to the other side of the bridge, he spotted their wagon pulled off to the side of the road waiting for him. Sam was bent over Grey in the back, tending to the gruesome wound in his belly. Missandei sat right beside her husband, holding his hand and whispering in his ear, comforting him as best she could. Gilly sat at the end of the wagon, holding her son close to her breast. Daenerys stood off to the side, pacing and watching the road. She stopped when she saw him coming, immediately going to alert the others.

“I told you he was fine,” Gilly said to no one in particular as Jon came upon them. “Whenever Jon gets himself in trouble, there’s always shootin’. No shootin’ means Jonny boy’s just fine.” She spoke fondly as he got down off the silver.

“My apologies for worrying about my brother.” Sam mumbled indignantly as he worked.

Daenerys only huffed as she walked past Gilly on her way to collect her horse. _She was worried about me _Jon realized. Why did that thought make him feel warm inside?

“Your horse ma’am,” Jon said as he handed her the reigns. “Not a hair in her mane touched, just as promised.”

“What happened?” She asked immediately, barely even acknowledging the horse.

“I had a friendly chat with a Dothraki who sounds like he came from The Citadel.” Jon explained. “He inquired about how and where I came about the horse, I gave him the name of an imaginary stable, and we parted ways. Simple as that.”

“It was lucky that Jillo was the one to spot you, I doubt anyone else would’ve asked any questions before shooting you.” Daenerys identified Jon’s newest friend. “You were right, they were looking for the horse.” She grudgingly admitted.

“I suppose I was.” Jon shrugged. He tried to fight the smirk, but his face betrayed him. Dany just rolled her eyes before moving on.

“They didn’t know that Virsallo was dead?” She asked.

“I don’t think so. I doubt they would’ve been so pleasant if they knew what happened at the last place this horse was seen,” He said glibly as he patted the animal on it’s flank.

“They must have stationed a group to watch either exit out of the city to keep me from getting out while everyone else went to the saloon.” Daenerys reasoned. “They’ve got a lot of men in that city, and by now most of them long have to know that three of their men died where they found this horse. It won’t take them much longer to discover that the horse sauntered out of the city right under their noses.” Her voice was grave, and Jon felt a cold chill crawl its way into his chest at her words.

“They’ll come hunting for us soon.” He muttered.

“We should probably get moving then.” Daenerys decided. Jon nodded in solemn agreement.

“We ready to ride Sam?” Jon called to his friend who was still tending to Grey in the back of the wagon.

“Can’t we wait a few minutes?” The moon faced man didn’t even look up from his work as he answered.

“Not unless you want to patch holes in the rest of us too.” Daenerys remarked as she swung up into her saddle, peering down the bridge.

“I’ll live until we can make camp,” Grey’s voice was tired, but determined. “We must go, before the screamers come for us.”

“You can help him later Sam,” Gilly’s voice was gentle as she spoke to her husband. “We have to go now.”

Sam stilled for a moment, then quickly went about rebandaging his patients wound. While he wrapped up his work, everyone else set about readying themselves for the long night’s ride they had ahead of them.

Everybody stopped when Missandei’s shriek pierced the still of the night. Jon’s revolver was in his hand in an instant. Dany armed herself with a pistol just as quickly

“Hello Ghost,” Gilly greeted the new arrival cheerfully. Jon let out the breath he was holding and chuckled. Daenerys looked terribly confused when Gilly giggled and said, “Good boy.”

“Ghost, to me.” Jon called to his friend.

“What in the seven hells is that?” Dany cursed as her horse whinnied nervously, backing away from the creature that walked around the side of the wagon. The albino direwolf was larger than a pony and yet quieter than a mouse as he slowly padded over to Jon.

“Dany, this is Ghost.” Jon introduced as the beast stopped before him, sitting back on his mighty back legs. “Did you have a good hunt boy?” Jon asked as he scratched behind the wolf’s ear. Ghost quickly grabbed ahold of the back of Jon’s fingerless gloves, holding the supple black leather between his teeth with a feather light touch before shaking Jon’s hand about. Jon only laughed, giving him a hearty scratch behind the ear with his other hand. “I missed you too boy.” He confessed.

“You keep a direwolf as a pet?” Dany asked, eyes wide, mouth agape.

“Yeah, it’s a long story. I’ll explain later, when we’re somewhere safe.” Jon promised as he mounted his horse.

“You get stranger by the minute Jon Snow,” Daenerys said to him, still looking at him with wonder plain across her face.

“Thank you.” Jon replied with a big, sincere smile. Daenerys looked at him for a moment not sure what to make of him, before her face also split wide with a great big smile. She shook her head at the absurdity of it all and let out a belly laugh that left her shoulders shaking. Jon was right behind her, and soon they were a merry pair of fools, laughing on the side of the road. They couldn’t say what about, just that they were doing it for the liberation of it. In that moment, the practiced killers looking to collect a pretty silver head and the family that lay scattered out there in the world were gone. All that was left was a peace and joy that they had scarcely known before.

“Do you want to go now Jon?” Gilly asked in the gentle way she had. She was already in the driver’s seat of the wagon, reigns in hand. Sam sat next to her; their son cradled in his arms. Jon had seen them just like this nearly every moment of the last week, but he paused a moment to admire the pretty picture their little family made. _Maybe one day…_

“That’s probably for the best.” Dany agreed with a sigh. The brilliant smile from before is gone, but something’s still pulling at the corners of her mouth. “We won’t have much to laugh about if the Dothraki catch us.”

She and Missandei steered their horses toward the road before taking off at a gallop. Jon went to his newly acquired steed, pulling himself up to the saddle for the first time. He gently spurred the horse forward, and Gilly followed suit, giving the reigns a firm snap.

“You’re a sweet man Jon Snow.” Gilly’s voice was soft as they moved lazily to the road. Jon wanted to protest. He wasn’t sweet. He was a killer and a criminal. He hadn’t been sweet for a long time. Not since the last time he had seen fiery hair and crooked teeth.

“Don’t tell the others.” He said instead.

“I won’t.” Gilly chirped in happy agreement. “Sam says they don’t like kindness anyway.”

“Sam’s a smart man.” Jon muttered in agreement as they spurred the horses to a gallop.

Jon wasn’t sure what he’d find at the crossroads if they even made it there alive. He just hoped to have some silver and purple there with him.

**Author's Note:**

> I would really love to hear any feedback you have about this so far. I know my work is a long way from perfect and I want to get better in order to be the best writer that I can be. Tell me any way at all that you think I can improve. Also, if there are any continuity errors, I apologize. I've been working on this off and on for a few months and during that time I rewrote and reworked large sections of it. If there are any continuity problems, just point them out and I'll fix them as soon as I can. I've already started work on Chapter 2, so I'd really love to know how I can build on what I've already got.


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